


Andela

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: The epilogue to Strength and Grace.





	1. Uncle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Strength and Grace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495842) by [posingasme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme). 



Andela sipped at the tea that was held for her by her grandson. She smiled at him weakly. "Thank you, sweet boy," she murmured in her language.

His smile was sad. "Babička, it's Gabriel, remember? Not Castiel. He will be back soon."

There was a tiny huff of laughter. "Gabriel is not my sweet boy?"

"No, láska môjho života." Gabriel licked at his lips. His Slovak was sloppy, and he knew it. Maybe no one else noticed, but Andela would. He wished he had kept it polished instead of allowing an accent to form. He and his brothers had moved to America when Gabriel was relatively young, far younger than little Castiel had been. Gabriel and Castiel were two sides of the same coin. The younger man still had a very subtle accent when he spoke English, and Gabriel had one when he spoke Slovak. Not even Michal could hear it in Gabriel's speech when they used Slovak, which was rare. But Andela could hear it. He forced his clumsy tongue to continue. "No, you're asking for Castiel. He will be back soon. I promise."

Andela let her soft hand touch her grandson's cheek. "Gabriel, you too are my sweet boy."

He sighed. "Andela, my love, you know better. You've always known better. My brothers and me-"

"Gabriel," she cut him off a bit sharply, "you are not like your brothers."

He laughed a little at this. "No. Not entirely. I'm far smarter."

She smirked at him. "Your brothers are smart, Gabriel. What they lack is your imagination."

The word was unfamiliar. It took him a moment to recognize it, and when he did, he knew it as a compliment used only for Castiel in the past. He was oddly pleased with this assessment. "Lu can get creative," he argued quietly.

The old woman sighed. "Not with his heart," she responded. "Your imagination is good, sweet boy."

"Babička, you know I'm not a sweet boy," he said again. "You're no fool."

"Gabriel," she said in a voice which was becoming more hoarse every day, "do you remember when little Castiel and little Hana lost their mother and then their father left?"

He frowned. "A little. But I didn't know them much back then. I was already here."

"Yes. But then when I brought them to this country, this neighborhood, and you did know them, you gave Castiel something. Do you remember?"

Gabriel tried to think. He felt as though this were a test of sorts. "I remember teaching him some things when he was thirteen or so."

"No, a gift."

"I'm sorry, Andela. I don't remember."

"The child was alone, with just old Andela for company."

He gazed at her in adoration. "You aren't old now, my love, and you certainly weren't old when Castiel was a child."

But she would not be deterred. "A boy with no father, no one to help him through hard things. He was strong for Hana, but no one was strong for him."

Gabriel's whiskey brown eyes watched her blue ones intently. "I know."

"But you saw something none of us saw, even poor Andela."

He doubted there had ever been anything those sharp eyes had ever missed, but he did not say so. She was nearly blind now, and it tore at his heart.

"You caught him at skicovanie."

A frown crossed his face. "I'm sorry, Andela. I don't know that word."

She licked her lips and thought for a moment, then tried a different one. "Drawing, Gabriel. You saw him draw."

"Oh."

"And you bought him pencils."

His heart warmed with the awakened memory. "Ah! Yes. I asked an artist I met what sorts of pencils were the best. I had forgotten."

"Castiel will never forget that kindness, Gabriel. And neither will I. He still has the wooden box you put them in."

A slow smile crept up on Gabriel then. "He does? I mean..." Without meaning to, he had slipped into English. He cleared his throat. "That's good. I'm glad," he said in the old language. "I didn't know how good he would be back then. But it seemed that he had some talent."

"He loved you for it. Not only for the pencils, but for noticing him at all. And I thank you for that, Gabriel. For helping him."

He felt a bit of an ache begin in his chest. He saw in the mirror above Andela's headboard that the door behind him was opening. He forced a smile. Only Castiel could be so silent. "I know little Castiel is special to you, babička."

Andela's eyes were too weak to see their company. She just smiled at Gabriel. "He is special," she confirmed.

He nodded. "Well, the golden child will be back momentarily." He patted her hand. "So I'll leave you alone."

"Gabriel, don't you leave your babička without listening to what she has to tell you. I'm not stupid; I know this may be our final chat."

A severe pain slashed his heart. "No. Babička, no. Never."

She snorted at him. "Do we live forever, Gabriel?"

He stared at her with devotion. If Castiel had not stood in the doorway, he might have let the tears fall. Andela couldn't see anyway, and he would never allow it to show in his voice. "Angels live forever. Please, my love. You must live forever. I..." He squeezed his eyes closed. "Andela, you're the only good part of me. Please. If you go, I'm coming with you."

Her hand was on his cheek. "No. No, Gabriel. You are needed."

"I'm nothing but a mafioso," he spat, his tongue falling hard on the word mafián. "I cheat and trick for money, Andela. I'm no angel. Not like little Castiel. No one needs me here. The only thing keeping me from dying with you is knowing I'm heading for a place far hotter."

"And what have you done with your money, my Gabriel?"

He snorted. "Made more money, Andela. It's what I do." He could see Castiel leaning on the door frame. His inquisitive eyes were staring into the mirror at his cousin, sitting on the bed next to their grandmother.

"Do your brothers believe that? Because I am not so unimaginative."

Castiel frowned in confusion.

Gabriel glanced at him quickly, then looked away. "Andela, making profit is my business."

She nodded. "Yes. And your recreation is using it to help."

In his periphery, he could see Castiel smirk a little. Spratek.

"I look out for my investments," Gabriel acknowledged reluctantly.

"And investment is why you choose the poorest Slovak families to import items from?"

He shrugged. "They're cheapest."

"And investment is why you pay for the Czech boys who work for you to go to school?"

"I can't have uneducated employees."

"And investment is why you build playgrounds in the poorest neighborhoods?” 

Gabriel laughed uncomfortably. “Andela, my dear, you know nothing about business. I can't have my employees bringing their kids with them on jobs. It's unprofessional. I'd lose my image.” 

“You take girls from the street and give them work in your shops.”

His face was beginning to burn. “Well, they aren't my shops. Just places I do business with. And anyway, I like employees who know what it's like to be hungry. Makes them less likely to quit or slack off. How do you know any of this anyway?”

“Everyone talks to old Andela, sweet Gabriel. Mothers talk to me, old and young. Children talk to me, and they don't stop when they get old.”

That ache was eating him alive. “Everyone loves you, babička. This neighborhood, and all the ones surrounding it...We need you, babička. You're everyone's babička. We've never deserved you, but you're the angel who saves us all. Please don't leave me.” It suddenly didn't matter that Castiel could see him, could hear his desperation. This was his babička. He would not let her go without showing her exactly how much she meant to him.

Her soft hand patted his gently. “Gabriel, you have never needed anyone. And even long after I am gone, you will hear old Andela say to you, you are good, Gabriel. If ever you doubt yourself, remember that I know you better, and I know you are good. And I trust that you will take care of my Castiel, and my Hana, and all my people. Sam. Dean and Carmen. They are family. And all the families. And yes, even Michal and Lu. You are now strýko, Gabriel.”

He frowned, but before he could respond, she spoke again.

“I must rest now, sweet Gabriel. I'm sorry. Your old babička, she can't seem to stay awake long anymore.”

Fear threatened to strangle him, seemed to be clawing up his throat. Tears burned in his eyes. “Just another moment, my love,” he whispered. He tried to hide his sob behind a laugh. “I know I'm not exciting company, but I'll try to keep you entertained.”

But she just smiled and closed her old eyes. “You will be fine. My Gabriel is a survivor. Take care of them, Gabriel. For babička.”

“Yes, Andela,” he wept in defeat. “I will. I promise you I will.” 

There was no response, and after a moment spent watching her fall asleep, he took a shuddered breath, and lifted himself. He drew a hand down his face. There were no tears; he wouldn't allow them. It was bad enough he had lost control of his emotions so far that it had bled into his voice for Castiel to hear. He straightened his suit, and composed himself before turning to walk away. He passed Castiel as if unaware the young man was there at all. It was better than having to look him in the eyes when he knew his own were red.

But of course the spratek followed him, like a silent shadow, all the way to the porch outside. He fumbled a cigarette, but did not light it. Andela didn't like the habit. He had quit years ago, but had stolen a pack from a friend earlier that day. He held it in his fingers and simply stared at it.

“Gabriel?”

He heaved a sigh. “What?”

“Is any of it true?”

He huffed in annoyance. “Andela is old, Castiel. Bratranec, prosím. Leave me alone.”

Castiel licked his lips and nodded quietly. “Yes, strýko.”

He stared at nothing with a heart heavy with grief, but before Castiel could reach the door to go back inside, he called over his shoulder to him. “What is that?” He cleared his throat, and pushed aside his pride, hurt at having to ask for a translation from his little cousin. “Prosim. It's what she called me too. What is it?” Castiel's smile and his look of devotion was too much. Gabriel could not face him. But he listened for his word, afraid he might already know what it meant, and what it symbolized. 

“Strýko. Andela has always been our matriarch. And now she is telling us who we are to look to after she passes.”

“It means Uncle.”

Castiel nodded. “Samozrejme. Of course it means uncle. You are the one Andela trusts to watch over the families in the community, as she always did.”

“That's stupid. I'm a thief, bratranec. That's all I've ever been.”

“Andela knows best,” Castiel teased mildly. “Good night, Uncle.” 

Gabriel sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and strode toward his car.


	2. Brother

Castiel made no noise as he wept. He simply lay with his head on Sam's lap, and let his grief leak out in tears of exhaustion. He didn't even have the will or energy to sob. He stared at nothing, and had to remember to breathe.

His dancer stroked his hand gently through his dark hair. It was soothing, comforting, rhythmic, melodic. It would put the artist to sleep before long. But in the meantime, it hurt just to be alive.

Now and then, he spoke. “Talk to me, zlato. Prosím, láska,” he murmured. If Sam paused too long, he added, “Môj zlatý človek. Don't stop talking to me, tanečník.” 

Sam sighed. “Did I ever tell you that when I was a little boy, I had nightmares? Bad ones, several nights a week. Dean once said he wondered if it was because I never knew my mom, if I just never quite felt safe in the world without her. I think he was projecting how much he missed her. But I didn't know that then. And I began to think, if I had her, I would be fearless.”

Castiel's lips curled into a tiny smile, and even though it faded right away, he guessed Sam could tell he was hanging on every word. Sam was keeping him grounded when all he wanted to do was let his spirit evaporate.

“I was scared a lot, and I liked to think maybe, in another life, I could have been fearless. To me, Dean was fearless. Even as an adult...I've never been so afraid in my life as when he had his first episode after his surgeries, and he was so disoriented and scared. If Dean's scared, the world isn't safe. It's just a fact of my psychology. And I think sometimes you got afraid, but you saw that Andela was strong, so you felt safe.”

He blinked slowly, and he could no longer see anything but the tears and the blurred moonlight from their window. “She was always strong,” he whispered.

“So is Dean. Remember when I hurt my shoulder, and every morning, he thought I had come home from Juilliard because of it, and he kept telling me it was okay, and he would help me get back to where I was, that this injury wasn't going to slow me down a bit?” 

Castiel gave a true smile now. “He was in full big brother form for those few weeks that you wore the sling. When he had been caught up on the past few years, he said, he didn't care what the doctors said about him; it was his job to take care of you, and no stupid brain injury was going to keep him from doing his damn job.”

Sam huffed a tiny laugh. “Andela told me she was proud of him. I think...Cas, she was always good to us. Always. But the day she said that she was proud of Dean for fighting to take care of me, I think that's when I really felt like she was our grandmother. Our babička. Thank you for letting us love her too.”

“Thank you for loving her,” he croaked out. “She is the best part of me. She is the angel she wanted me to be.” 

“Cas? She was proud of you.” 

He sighed, but nodded. “I never was able to pay back what she was to me.” 

“She's family, Cas. Family doesn't keep score.” 

Castiel looked up at his dancer with gratitude. “She was proud of me, zlato. You're right. And I think she was most proud that I built my own family, out of good people. She told me just before she passed that…” Emotion choked him, but he pushed through it. “That she wasn't worried about me anymore. That she knew I had finally learned to let…”

“To let us love you,” Sam finished for him. 

He gripped Sam's hand hard. His colorful tattoos snaking up his arm seemed to reach for his lover just as his heart did. “Thank you for loving me. You, Carmen, Dean...I think I always thought I would be alone when Andela left me. That even Hana and Gabriel would fade away, and I would have no one. I didn't expect to have any family left. So thank you for being here.” 

***

He slipped out of the room when Sam finally passed out. He himself just couldn't. It felt like that would make everything final. As if he would never have to wake up in a world without Andela if he never fell asleep again. Instead, he found himself staring at a blank sketchpad beside an untouched cup of čaj, when his brother emerged from another bedroom.

“Dean,” he murmured. “I'm Cas. Do you need something?” 

Dean smiled at him. “Recognize you from the video and pictures. We’re friends. You introduce yourself every time I walk into the room?” 

He shrugged wearily. “Most of the time. It's easier that way.”

The man nodded. He took a chair next to Castiel at the table, and looked at the sketchpad. “Something's missing,” he said quietly.

Castiel looked at him with swollen red eyes, and smiled in surprise. “Yeah.” 

“Sam okay?”

“He’s fine.”

Dean nodded again. “House doesn't feel right.” 

He was empty of tears, but his breath sighed out too fast. “That's because someone isn't here. Someone who loved you but you'll never know.”

The frown on Dean’s face made him wish he hadn't been so blunt. This was why he didn't talk often. Things just fell out of his mouth. But Dean looked at him. “I don't have to remember somebody to be glad I knew them. Tell me the stories.” 

Stunned gratitude flushed out the darkness in Castiel's heart all at once. He gave a short laugh. “I would like that,” he realized. “I would really like that.”

Into the night, Castiel told Dean story after story of Andela, of how much she meant to him, and how she had loved so fiercely. He told him about the time he had caught Andela and Dean cooking together while drinking a bottle of wine, and how Carmen had laughed when Dean had threatened to leave her for the old lady. He told him about Andela trying to teach Sam to make a simple meal, and that Hana had learned to use a fire extinguisher that day. Every story lifted his spirits a little higher, until he and Dean were laughing together like the old friends they were.

Family was a funny thing. Castiel was grateful for his.

**Author's Note:**

> I dearly hope you enjoyed this little story. It is close to my heart, as are my readers, one and all.
> 
> ~Posing


End file.
